Photographs
by ichihoe
Summary: Levi never liked having his photos taken.


**I will not provide a descriptive summary for the reason that I want the ending to be somewhat of a surprise. Read at your own risk.**

**Thank you kurosaki-no-otome for beta'ing this work! Without you this wouldn't have been as perfect as it was ;v;/**

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I never liked having my picture taken.

I disliked the camera's ability to capture an image of me so realistically from my dark circles to my sickeningly pale skin. I hated how in every picture I frowned, and in every picture, you could tell that I absolutely despised it.

I wasn't always so against photos. Back in grade school, when I didn't have my dark circles, I enjoyed having my photo taken. Every time my mother or father pointed a camera at me to make memories, I would smile as bright as I could, showing my shiny white row of teeth. I still had that huge album of my old pictures and I would stare at it with rancor but could never bring myself to get rid of it.

It wasn't until High School that I truly hated having my picture taken. It was then did I get the hideous dark blemishes around my eyes which made my already pale skin appear paler. It was then that I got made fun of for my height and was constantly bullied by the other kids. It was then that I told myself to never take any photos during my High School years because they were the worst moments of my life.

Old habits die hard, you could say. My animosity for my photos never deteriorated.

However, one fated night on my way home from work, I literally bumped into the best mistake ever. I was in my mid-twenties at the time, graduated college not too long ago and was a newly hired business man going home from his first week of work. I was in a hurry to get home so I wasn't exactly paying attention to where I was going.

I collided with a student who didn't look much older than twenty, and to my rotten luck he was holding a camera. And it was one of those expensive ones too, so you knew this kid had to be serious about photography. The camera wasn't one of those disposable ones that only took a few pictures or so. This one cost real guap. Not that I would know for sure, I wasn't a camera-maniac.

I was reluctant to help him up, but I did so anyway because he looked so dejected. The kid looked like he was about to cry and he was unstable on his feet.

I remembered wondering just what the hell was I doing, and why I was even considering to walk the kid home.

It's raining, I had reasoned. And you got paid, I recalled thinking. So I was in a good enough mood to let the whole camera thing slide, and to help out a crestfallen student who didn't deserve to face the wrath of a sour businessman who had no reason to hold a grudge over him.

He looked so grateful, and his inexplicably colored eyes lit up like the city lights. He introduced himself as Eren, and I told him that I was Levi. I allowed him to stand under my umbrella as I walked this stranger home.

I had hoped to not start a conversation with him, but the kid was already running his mouth, making me doubt his previous despondence. I let it slide, just listening without replying much, just the occasional "yes"s and "mm"s.

It wasn't until he brought up photography that I actually responded. And when I did, it wasn't the nicest of replies.

"I hate photography." Were my exact words. I hadn't bothered sugar-coating them and I didn't bother looking apologetic either. I said it without taking it back or feeling an ounce of guilt.

Strangely this only made him laugh and with that, our first meeting came to an end. He thanked me then disappeared into his house.

After that, we kept clashing. Cafes, stores, you name it. We met so often that the both of us accused the other of stalking. It was preposterous for two people to meet so often without it being planned. Coincidences did not happen that regularly. I wasn't particularly against seeing the kid so often, but it was kind of obscure for me.

At some point, we decided to just accept it. It wasn't a spoken agreement or a solid decision, but one day, Eren just sat down on the seat across from mine at a table and we chatted over our cups of tea and coffee.

We found out that we had almost nothing in common. Whereas he liked the winter, I favored the summer. If Eren liked dogs, I preferred cats. We were complete opposites of each other.

And there was that saying opposites attract, and attract we did. It wasn't long until Eren and I became romantically involved. We didn't do much of that push and pull thing. When something happened, it happened and the both of us accepted it so casually one would think we went straight from strangers to lovers.

The one hindrance in our relationship per contra, was our different opinions of photography.

Eren, despite my aversion to pictures, continued to take pictures of me every opportunity he got. He was an amazing photographer I learned, and he never ceased to amaze me with his talent to take the most beautiful pictures I've ever seen in my life. Even the simplest of things came alive through his work. He was passionate when it came to the camera, and his hard work showed through his outcomes. He was a genius.

His long, slender fingers would work the camera magically to the point I wondered whether he was making magic or not. I loved his hands. I loved every niche, and for him, I knew I definitely had a hand fetish. Just for his damned hands that I loved to hold every opportunity I'd get. It was with those magical hands he produced those beautiful photos. It was with those magical hands that I was touched intimately.

And those brilliant eyes of his would sparkle with so much excitement, I felt secondhand excitement for him even with my hatred for his greatest passion.

Thus, because he was a photographer and my boyfriend, it was a given that one of the most frequently targeted subject was me.

His first love, was my first enemy.

At times it was annoying to think that I had to share the first place in my boyfriend's heart with the one thing I could not stand. We got into fights often because of it too, but now that I think back to it, I felt so stupid.

Even with our constant bickering, the brat would always tell me how beautiful I was every time he could, no matter how sappy it sounded. And I'd believe him, because with him everything felt so real. We'd make love shortly after that.

Eren's photos of me hadn't gone unappreciated. One day he came to my house holding a huge red scrapbook, and when I opened it I saw his pictures of me on them. Most of the scrapbook was empty, but the first two pages were filled with me.

I remembered yelling at him for it. For wasting his time with worthless shit when he knew I disliked my photos. He had always told me, "That's not true Levi, you never know when these photos would become useful. You'll cherish them one day and thank me for taking them."

At the time I didn't understand the meaning. I would only continue to yell at him to the point the poor kid would cry, making me feel guilty and ending in a series of apologies that would last the whole night long. The brat always forgave me.

He was always so freaking fabulous to me. So good to me.

Sitting there on my black couch, I flipped through the red scrapbook. It was bigger than my lap and heavier than my cat Charles William the IV (don't ask why it's the fourth. Eren and I had a lot of difficulties) , which was saying something because the fucker weighed nearly twenty pounds. Eren had done a good job packing the scrapbook with a lot of pictures.

I paused at each and every photo, taking it in and trying to ignore my face as often as possible. Or at least, that was how I started.

The first photo ever of me in our relationship and the first photo in the scrapbook, was taken by Eren's new camera, different from the one I had seen when I first met him. He had refrained from taking pictures of me in our earlier days of dating, but after he got his new camera he became bold.

I remembered how that photo was taken in vivid memory. I probably remembered every photo in the scrapbook and how it was taken.

He had said he was only going to see if the lenses were clean enough, pressing the camera up to his eye as he fumbled with a few buttons. I was naive and just stared at the camera until finally the flash blinded me as Eren took a picture of me.

I was stunned into silence for a bit, blinking at him until his face was visible from behind the camera. He smiled at me, begging with his eyes to forgive him. Another one of his famous phrases were, "It's better to beg for forgiveness than to ask for permission." And that was exactly what he was doing.

I forgave him, but I was still upset at him. It took much persuading on his part for me to not insist on him erasing the picture. Nonetheless, the picture stayed.

In the picture, I looked so startled and caught off guard. My eyes held a foreign innocence and the background was blurred out, the photo focusing on entirely me. Due to the flash, my face was as white as the snow and my dark circles stood out more. I had no reason to allow Eren keep the picture, but I guess I was just a lovesick man back then.

The second photo was located directly under the first. It was taken on our first official date (Eren had said the previous 'dates' weren't considered one because neither of us actually asked each other out. So I had taken it upon myself to ask him out on one, to the nearest ice rink in spite of my inability to skate). Again, the photo was of me, on the ice rink, looking very ungraceful with a clear distinct scowl on my face.

Eren said that was art, and that because it wasn't forced, it was a true form of art. I hated him for saying those very words, because I was so angry at him. I thought he was mocking me, but at the end it was clear he wasn't because he offered to delete the photo if I truly wished.

I couldn't bring myself to tell him to, because he had looked so sad at the thought of getting rid of one of his artworks. So I let him keep it, and that earned me one of his irresistible kisses.

The third picture was of the both of us from a higher angle so that the entire frame captured our faces and the dinner table that had been set. Eren had cooked dinner for the both of us, and I remembered how amazing dinner tasted that night.

Compared to me, in the picture Eren looked so happy and bright. I looked displeased and peeved. That was what most our pictures together looked like. A very happy college student and a vexed business man.

The next one, was different from the rest in that aspect. This picture was taken by Eren on my birthday on Christmas while I was asleep on the couch wearing this one ugly Christmas sweater my friend Hanji had forced me into. What made this picture different, was that I was asleep looking very peaceful without that usual scowl on my face. Eren was in the picture as well, kissing my cheek with his eyes closed. He looked so happy.

The next morning I was furious and nearly ripped the photo up. That was why it had a small crease on the corner from being handled so roughly. Eren had fought back to save the picture, and the battle ended with his victory.

The next one was from New Years. Eren had decided to throw a small party at my house, inviting Hanji, Erwin and Mike over without me knowing, and inviting his own friends Armin and Mikasa over. The picture was of me and him again, him in a blue beanie and me in one of those stupid 2013 New Year's glasses. I wasn't smiling, but it was better than me frowning openly. At least this time my hideous eyes were covered a bit.

Eren wearing a beanie should have been my first hint. It should have let me know that something was up and something was wrong. The thing was, beanies in the winter weren't strange, because people wore them all the time for warmth. Maybe that was why I didn't see it. Not because I was stupidly ignorant but because Eren was so smart in covering up his tracks.

After that, Eren must have learned to not show me all the pictures of me he took in secret. Still, even without me knowing he took a picture, I remembered when all of them must have happened.

The next one was a close up of our faces, our cheeks flushed from the cold. I wasn't too keen on taking pictures, but that was the time of our relationship I decided fighting all the time wasn't so healthy. I held back my anger towards photography and let Eren take photos once in a while. That didn't mean I was eager to take photos though.

Eren's eyes in the photo were Christmas tree green and his lips were blue but he had on the biggest smile as if nothing in the world could shake him. I wish it had stayed that way.

The seventh picture was of me sitting on a bench. The only thing notable about the picture, was my pale blue scarf. I was surrounded by milky white everywhere you looked since it had just snowed the night before. I was staring off into the distance, not knowing Eren was taking the picture. At the time, I remembered that I was thinking of how Eren's birthday was coming closer and closer.

The photograph was beautiful. Not because I was in it, or because it contained a lot of artsy things, but because Eren took it. No one has ever said this, but I would. A photograph is as beautiful as the attitude a photographer has before taking the picture, and while taking the picture. Eren had taken the photo with full confidence and desire.

Back then I knew I would never be able to say that. If I were to look into the future and see what I was saying and doing now, I'd be disgusted of myself. How could I ever appreciate a picture of myself?

But the brat knew me. He knew what was going to happen, and he made the scrapbook on purpose.

The eighth picture was of us during Valentine's Day. Eren was dressed in a red turtleneck with a white beanie perched on his head. I was dressed in less festive colors of cream and black. I remembered him scolding me for that, trying to go out and buy me something red when I wouldn't wear anything red of his. Still, even with his complaints he had taken a picture of me fixing my sleeves.

The ninth picture was there against my will.

It was another picture from Valentine's Day, and it clearly screamed out "We're a couple", too.

The picture was of us kissing, me looking relaxed despite knowing a picture was being taken, and Eren looking so jubilant with his eyes squeezed shut. The conversation before the picture was me not understanding why we needed a photo of us kissing when we did it all the time. It wasn't something to capture into a physical thing. It would then have less value, I had said, and Eren replied with a simple response, "You'll thank me one day."

The shitty brat. I wouldn't have complained so much if I knew why I'd thank him. He never told me the reason why, and I had stupidly never bothered to ask him.

The tenth picture was of us under the bed sheets, naked. This picture was a lot more intimate and personal because it was taken right after we had first made love. Eren was being ridiculous and asking to take a photo, and me being in a good mood just allowed him to take it.

At that moment as I studied the picture of us, Charles William the IV walked by me with an accusing meow. If he didn't take that photo you would have regretted it for sure!

"Shut up Charlie. I don't need you to tell me that." I grumbled under my breath, then flipped the page.

The next photo wasn't one of me or the both of us. Much to my luck, that day Eren had decided to take an artistic monochrome shot of our boxes stacked high in our new house. We decided to move in together and settle down permanently. It was Spring time.

It was still pretty cold outside, so Eren wearing a beanie was not strange yet. I remembered asking him if he had taken a new liking to beanies, and he gave me the saddest smile that I couldn't fathom back then. I asked him what was wrong and he shut me up with a kiss. I was so stupid to let it go like that.

The twelfth photo was my absolute favorite though I had almost forgotten it existed. I had taken this one myself with a great deal of trouble. It had taken me about ten minutes to even figure out where the picture taking button was because the camera was so god damn complication for no reason. Eren had even stayed where he was on purpose knowing that I was struggling to take a photo of him.

The photo was of him (not in the best focus, but still visible) with his back to the camera. He had on an apron and he was in the kitchen making us a breakfast meal. He was humming lightly under his breath and I just loved that image of him so much I took a picture of it.

I had planned to do it without him knowing, but he found out later on and cried literal tears of joy. He liked it so much he added it to the scrapbook.

I regret not taking more pictures of him alone, because we didn't have much of that.

The picture after that wasn't as welcomed as the previous, but Eren taped it securely into the scrapbook anyway. The photo was of me in my office wearing my suit, looking very annoyed at the picture taker, Eren. My arms were crossed over my chest and my eyebrows were knitted together. That day, Eren had visited my workplace for the umpteenth time, showing up with cake for everyone. I had been upset with him for showing one of my co-workers so much attention instead of channeling it to me, and Eren found that "cute" which resulted in another picture. I told him to erase it because I didn't ever want to be reminded of the sickening feeling of jealousy (I didn't say these exact words, but it was implied), but Eren went and got it printed.

That picture also managed to remind me how short I was.

I always hated how short I was but Eren made me appreciate my size because he always held me so protectively. I realized I never thanked him for making me feel that way. I never even provided him that much of a protection.

The thirteenth one was of me hunched over in my seat, staring at my laptop in great concentration. I had on my reading glasses, and I didn't even remember when he had taken this exactly, but I remembered that was the day Eren had gotten sick. I had told him to rest, and with that thought in mind I focused on my work without even stopping to consider whether he'd actually follow my order and rest. It seems he hadn't, because he had used that time to rest to take a picture of me.

The next one was also my favorite. It was a picture of Eren and I on his birthday. We had on silly party hats and Eren had frosting on his cheek. That night ended with the two of us locking ourselves in our room, making passionate love to each other and not caring if whether the others who had attended the birthday party wanted to stay longer or not. To think, the sweet frosting that I never actually liked would give me such an advantage like that. I thanked God for sweet things for the first time that night.

The picture following that one, was of me asleep on my laptop. I had gotten far without starting another fight with Eren, but this one had caused a fight to erupt. It started out as me complaining that I had told him not to take pictures of me sleeping, but he went and did so anyway. Eren said that he couldn't resist, and that aroused harsh feelings within me. I brought up every mistake Eren had made, that he had admitted himself he regretted doing, and even brought up that one time I asked him why he wore a beanie and he didn't reply with words but a painfully, forlorn smile. He had never told me why, and I guess that really bothered me at that time.

As always, our fights began and ended with me asking, "Why do you take so many photos of me all the time when you know I hate it? They're pointless!" To which he always replied without a fail, "That's not true Levi, you never know when these photos would become useful. You'll cherish them one day and thank me for taking them."

I never thought that the reason he'd tell me I'd relish his photos was because he was going to leave me. I never even stopped and considered it for a single second that I wasn't always going to have him beside me. I didn't realize how I was taking everything for granted.

He knew me so well.

He knew what he had, he knew of the darkness growing in him, and yet he kept it a secret because he knew how I'd react.

He knew what he was doing all along. It wasn't for useless purposes. The brat was incredibly smart.

The brat was always right. God damn it he was right so many times.

I regret having all those ridiculous fights with him, because they were so plain stupid. I felt so sorry for causing them over pictures I so desperately clung to now.

After that one fight about my sleeping picture, our fights happened often.

We were at the part in our relationship where we were growing too used to each other.

We had another fight about the sixteeth picture. It was of me again, looking so bewildered with eyes of a deer caught in the headlights. Eren had taken it the moment I turned, and I yelled at him for nearly blinding me with the flash. The fight ended with him crying, and taking the car with him to drive away from me.

His beanie had fallen off his head that day, but I never even got to see what was being covered by that beanie because he was out the door in a flash.

I remember calling out to him to come back, apologizing like crazy but he was gone.

As I sat there on my couch staring at that photo, I realized how progressively in the photos Eren began to wear beanies. Even in the hot weather, he had worn them, probably suffering and sweating alone without being able to even tell me the reason why he was enduring such a hardship.

I didn't even know he was holding a heavy burden on his shoulders.

Eren came back the next day after our fight, a new hat replacing his old one that had fallen off the previous night. This hat was a snapback, looking more weather-appropriate than the beanie. He told me he was sorry as soon as he walked in, and threw his arms around my neck speaking incoherently into my neck as he cried. I forgave him and apologized to him a million times. I promised him I wouldn't yell at him again.

Funny how easily promises could be broken.

The very next day, the next photo, was the reason for our fight. It was the last photo in the scrapbook and the last photo taken by Eren. It was the photo taken on the day our biggest fight happened, and on the day before judgment day. It was on the last day of Summer, as Fall began.

On that day by the sunrise, Eren gave me a ring and proposed to me. He beat me to it, but he was the one who was crying when I said yes. He was the one who threw his arms around me and became a blubbering mess.

I just wish I hadn't said all the cruel things I did.

I can't even remember why we fought so violently, throwing poisonous words at each other that were meant to leave long-lasting wounds. The day was supposed to be our one year anniversary, yet it was tainted with something so evil that we couldn't take back no matter how much we wanted to.

But I guess I should tell you what the picture was exactly.

It was of me sitting on the beach sand, looking at the sunrise, my back looking peaceful and serene. The ocean in front of me was orange and pink from the different hues of the eternal canvas of the sky above, reflecting on the pristine water.

I was mad at myself because the parting picture had to be so fucking beautiful. I was mad because I didn't even get a chance to say good bye, and the brat had left.

The next day, I received a call from the hospital telling me that Eren Yeager had passed away from brain cancer. It rained.

It rained in my heart as well, and I remembered running out of the house saying prayers I've never even tried to do before. I wasn't religious, but I prayed that if there was a God up there, that he'd show mercy on me and forgive me for yelling at Eren so maliciously.

God didn't hear my prayer that day.

As the rain poured from the sky down onto the ground, my feelings with it, drowned into the pores of the earth and never surfaced again for a couple of months.

In the hospital was where I got the scrapbook from Hanji. It was my first time seeing it after Eren took it back promptly after he first showed it to me, and Hanji told me that Eren had been holding it to his chest the entire time refusing to let it go. Eren's last words had been my name, and his gift for me was this scrapbook containing all our memories.

I didn't want to take it because I was so angry at the brat, angry at him for leaving behind so many fucking memories when he should've just burned with them. I wanted to throw the ring at him and watch him do nothing about it because he was dead.

I remember breaking down outside of the hospital, crying loudly like a baby and not caring if others stared. I remember carrying the book home in my jacket so that it didn't get wet but it did anyway- only to throw it into the attic to never even touch it for a long time.

Today is a year after Eren's death, and I've finally managed to look into the scrapbook to see which of the pictures he had chosen out of the many to put into it.

Turning to the last empty page, I noticed a wet spot on it and I squinted. Strange. The rain from last year couldn't have still stay wet, right?

As I blinked, I realized that my eyes were wet and I was crying.

Snorting to myself, I called myself stupid and closed the scrapbook. I got up to make myself a cup of tea in honor of Eren's and my two years, only to stop and stare at the camera Eren had left behind. I had also kept that up in the attic along with the scrapbook, and there it was staring at me.

Slowly, I moved before I could regret it. No, I wouldn't regret this. This was for Eren.

I grabbed my camera gently with my hands, and angled it so that I could see myself in the LCD screen. I made sure to focus it perfectly this time, allowing the camera to do its thing and capture every flaw of mine from my dark circles to my pale skin.

Then, I did the only thing I was never able to do all those times Eren had pointed a camera at me.

I smiled.

Click.

Clad in only my pajamas and slippers, I left the house to get the picture printed. I didn't care if people thought I was crazy. I didn't care if my slippers were getting wet from the dirty mud water on the floor.

The moment I returned home, I filled the last page of the scrapbook with the picture of me smiling genuinely, and closed it.


End file.
